Radioactive
by My Little Margie
Summary: After Bruce's attempt to kill himself he goes back to the one place that feels like home: America. While working as an electrician in small town Alabama he becomes entangled with a waitress who is not quite what she seems. Follow Bruce around the world in this tale of love, lust, and gamma radiation while he comes to terms with the beast inside him and the woman by his side.
1. Chapter 1

Typically he stayed away from public places, but the motel room he was staying in didn't have a kitchen, and there was only so long he could live off of poptarts and microwave meals.

The restaurant sported an open 24 hours sign, and since Bruce didn't even get off work until 8:30 at night anyway, he went in at nine.

It was a bit more crowded than expected, with two truckers drinking coffee in a corner and a gaggle of teenagers eating brownies and pie, but all in all, it wasn't that crowded. The grumpy hostess told him to sit wherever, and he slid into a booth by the window where he could see the entirety of the small diner.

Shifting uncertainly he glanced over at the teenagers. He had a pretty good handle on himself, but the prospect of hurting kids made him uneasy. He had just made up his mind to leave when he was suddenly confronted with a pretty pink smile.

The woman connected to the smile was, overall, exceedingly average, she was, perhaps, a little short and skinny, but her face was rather plain. Bruce, however, was struck with an indescribable feeling that told him he simply could not leave; perhaps it was her smile, it had been a long time since someone had smiled at him like that.

"Hey, handsome," she said, voice smooth and sweet like southern honey, "What's a fine man like you doing around these parts?"

Bruce chuckled. He always liked it when waitresses flirted with him; the thrill of being found attractive paired with the knowledge that nothing was ever going to happen.

"Just moved to town," he told her, smiling shyly, "I'm working as an electrician for Ben Hartman."

The waitress grinned again. "If I knew someone as good-looking as you would be fixin' the wires things might end up broken more often."

Bruce laughed, and was about to respond when he was interrupted by a loud yell.

"Sarah!"

It was one of the teenagers, a scrappy boy with a bad haircut and a band t-shirt. The waitress, Sarah, rolled her eyes.

"See you in a minute, honey. I gotta go take care of this."

Bruce nodded to show he understood, and the waitress sped off to the other side of the room.

It seemed that the kids just wanted to get their bill, and Bruce quietly watched as the girls and boys argued over who owed what. The waitress, Sarah, laughed and joked beside them and called them all by name. As Sarah accepted a kiss on the cheek from one of the older boys, Bruce began to feel very stupid.

She was obviously older than the high-schoolers, but he was still at least a decade older than her. He wasn't naive enough to imagine that he would have any chance with her, but thoughts had a tendency to turn into actions, so thoughts had to be guarded just as closely. He was dangerous, and he could not afford to forget that.

The waitress turned around and flashed him a smile.

He buried his face in his menu.

The diner served the ordinary barrage of greasy foods and southern specialties, and Bruce scanned it halfheartedly as the teenagers got up and left, making his eyes avoid the sway of Sarah's hips as she walked back to his table.

"Sorry 'bout that, Sugar, but I figured that you'd rather have me get them out as quick as possible. They're nice kids, but they're awful loud, specially that Danial. Anyway, what'd you like to drink?"

"Tea, unsweetened," he answered, not unkindly.

She seemed to understand that the time for conversation had passed, so she nodded and went back to the kitchen to get it.

Bruce looked around the restaurant again, taking in the old photos and novelty decorations before the waitress brought back his tea.

"You know what you want, honey? Or do you need a bit more time?"

The food was good, the diner smelled like cornbread, and Bruce felt more content than he had in years. He finished everything on his plate, tipped the waitress well, and went back to his motel to dream a dreamless sleep.

While he didn't go back to the diner in over a week, he learned quite a bit about the waitress with some well-placed questions.

He learned that most people thought that she was pretty, in a plain, old-fashioned way, and that she had the sweet, polite, and happy manner expected from a classic southern girl. She had worked nightshifts at the local diner for the past eighteen months, so when she started people started to shift their dinners to eight and nine. She smiled freely, waited dutifully, and kept her skirt high enough to tantalize, but that was all anyone knew.

She had been the talk of the town when she first moved there, but people's interest had tapered off over time. Many people had asked her out, as friends or love interests, but she turned them all down, preferring to stay by herself. She had moved to Alabama only a month before she had started working, and no one really knew where she came from, but her small house on the edge of town had been paid for entirely in cash.

The more Bruce learned about her, the more he wanted to know.

She was on the run, that much was obvious to someone who had been running for years, but from who? And why?

Bruce knew he should not stick his nose where it did not belong, but he was curious; it had been a long time since he had had a friend, and it was hard to find someone with similar life experiences. Lonely as Bruce was, though, he would not out her, not even just between them. He placated himself by going to the diner every few days and contented himself knowing that there was someone in his same situation.

Everything was normal, or about as normal as his life could get. He worked hard, read excessively, ate cheap food, and paid in cash. His life was filled with yoga, wires, and waitresses, and though he might not have been happy, he was content.

That is, until Birmingham.

 **A/N**

 **Thanks so much for reading! This story takes place after the incredible hulk movie and a little over a year before Avengers. With any luck it will go all the way through the current movies. Reviews are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

A book was coming out, that was the start of it all. One of his favorite physicists had released a book on his theories on the God Particle, and as soon as Bruce heard about it on the radio he knew he had to have it.

The only bookstore in the town sold used books, so he knew that he would have to travel to the nearest big city, Birmingham, to get a copy of it.

It would be a two hour drive there and two hours back, but he had Friday afternoons off, and so he made plans to go.

The truck he had was clunky and old, but it got him where he wanted to go, and so, on a rainy day in Alabama, Bruce found himself in Birmingham.

The trip did not start off as particularly exciting. Bruce happened around from shop to shop, picking up things he needed her and there, a few new journals, a new yoga strap, some specialty tea bags, and, most importantly, his book.

Bruce considered the day a particularly successful one; he had gotten everything that he needed, and, because of the rain, he didn't look particularly suspicious keeping the hood on his jacket up. All in all, the day went well, and Bruce thought he would reward himself by going to a nearby coffee shop.

He didn't drink coffee of course, the caffeine got his heart rate too uncomfortably high, so he ordered tea and a particularly good looking sandwich.

After making his purchase, Bruce walked away from the counter only to find the shop was completely full.

Holding his sandwich in one hand and tea in the other, he realized, regrettably, that he would either have to ask someone to share a table, or go eat out in his truck. Even though he did not enjoy the thought of eating with a stranger, he was about to spend two hours going home in his rusty old truck, and didn't much fancy spending more time in there than he had to.

Reluctantly, he scanned the cafe, looking for someone alone at the table, when he saw Sarah, his waitress, sitting by herself in a corner booth.

From what he had heard from his neighbors, she didn't much like company, but he had a book to keep him occupied, and he would much rather spend his dinnertime with her than a complete stranger.

Pushing away his doubts, he walked up to her.

"Excuse me, Sarah?" he asked timidly, after all, she had plenty of opportunity to turn him down.

Sarah started, looking up from her newspaper and banging her head on the booth.

"Bobby!" she exclaimed, using his current alias as she rubbed the back of her head.

Bruce noticed that she dropped her accent when she was surprised.

"What are you doing in here, sugar?" she asked, picking up her accent just as quickly as she had lost it.

"Just in town to buy a book," he said, gesturing to the book underneath his arm, "Can I sit here? There's no open tables left, and I'd prefer not to eat in the rain."

Sarah smiled, sweet as molasses, and gestured for him to join her.

Bruce plopped down gratefully and started to unwrap his sandwich.

"So," he started conversationally, "What brings you to Birmingham?"

The smile dropped from Sarah's face but was quickly replaced by one even sweeter. Bruce thought that if she kept this up he'd have cavities.

"Oh, just odds and ends, honey, nothing special."

Telling that she didn't want to talk, Bruce turned to his book.

They passed about thirty minutes this way, with nothing but comfortable silence between them.

At last, Bruce finished his tea, but just as he opened his mouth to tell Sarah goodbye he was interrupted by a loud shout. "Nobody move! This is a stickup!"

Bruce completely froze. Two tall men in ski masks were standing in the doorway, brandishing guns, the smaller one holding a trash bag.

Eyes widening, Sarah sank deeper into the booth. As the masked men instructed the patrons of the diner to put their jewelry and wallets in the bag, Bruce quickly grabbed Sarah's hand.

"What are you doing?" Sarah hissed, trying to pull it back.

Bruce held tight.

"Looking to see if you still have your fingerprints," he whispered back.

She still did, and he released her with a sigh. He had sanded off his own years ago. It had been painful, and he had almost changed into the other guy a few times, but he found the number of people coming after him severely lessened once he did it.

"We're going to have to wipe down the table," he whispered, "Have you touched anything else?"

"No," she replied, as Bruce wet a napkin with her bottle of water and started to clean the table surreptitiously, "but why would that even matter? I'm not the one robbing the place."

They glanced at the two men again, one still guarding the door, and one collecting wallets on the other side of the coffee shop.

"Listen to me," Bruce hissed, "When the cops show up, and they will, they're going to fingerprint this place, and your fingerprints will turn up in the database. Something tells me you don't want that."

Sarah paled. "How do you know?"

Bruce chuckled without humor. "I've been on the run long enough to know when someone else is too."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but before he could a gunshot rang out.

The pair jumped and looked toward the source.

A hint of green crept into Bruce's eyes as he took in the victim of the shot.

"She," one of the gunmen announced, pointing to the woman with the bullet in her leg, "just tried to call the police!"

The woman screamed in pain as the man stepped on her injured leg.

"I don't think I need to tell the rest of you what a bad idea that is."

"Oh my god!" Sarah exclaimed quietly, "we have to help her!"

"No," he replied, panic bubbling up inside him as he reached out to grab her arm, "If you get shot they might fingerprint you at the hospital, and if I get get shot... bad things will happen. We just need to do as they say, get out, and call the police."

As the injured woman started to sob the green flared up even brighter in Bruce's eyes, and Sarah gasped in shock when she noticed.

"You have the serum in you."

"What?" Bruce asked sharply, quickly pulling his hand away.

"That would explain..." Sarah trailed off, eyeing the masked man that was slowly getting closer, "No time. Use yours if you can, I've been getting weaker, I don't know how long I can hold it."

"Hold what?" Bruce started, but before her could say anything else Sarah grabbed his arm and turned them green.

A flare of terror shot through Bruce as he observed his green skin, until he realized that he wasn't bigger, he was transparent.

Bruce turned toward Sarah in shock, his mouth hanging open, but she put a finger on his lips.

"They can't see us," she whispered.

"But we're green!" he hissed back.

"They don't know that," she replied, and lead him across the cafe.

True to her word, nobody saw them, and they were able to slip past the men in masks, out the door, and down the street.

When they were a safe distance away Sarah changed them back, but when Bruce turned toward her to ask her how she did it he was confronted with the sight of blood. Sarah was bleeding, almost violently, from her nose; her lips, chin, and chest colored red.

Explanations could wait.

Bruce hurried her into his truck, thankful that the bad weather kept people off the streets. He took off his hoodie and helped her into it before helping her into the passenger's seat. She looked completely drained.

"Bobby," she slurred, "Bobby, the people, the woman, she was hurt."

"Shh, Sarah," he soothed, "I'll take care of it."

Reaching across her, Bruce dug out a disposable phone from the glove compartment and dialed 911. After explaining the situation to the operator, Bruce denied their request to stay on the line, hung up, and walked to the corner of the block to throw the phone in a trashcan.

When he came back, Sarah had passed out.

He got in the car, drove a few streets away so they wouldn't be around when the cops showed up, and then turned to take care of Sarah.

Bruce wet the edge of his sleeve and used it to wipe the drying blood off her face, then did a quick check of her vitals. Luckily her pulse, heartbeat, and breathing had evened out, and her nose had stopped bleeding. If she weren't so pale and feverish Bruce would have said she was completely normal.

As he started up the truck and started to drive home he thought about how _ab_ normal she was. For as long as he had been living, breathing, and hell, even injecting himself with science, he had never heard of anyone actually achieving invisibility. There had been a few that claimed they were close, but they were typically regarded as crackpots, and nobody ever really paid attention to them.

No matter how much he wracked his brains he couldn't think of anything even close to what Sarah could do.

As he looked over at the softly sleeping waitress he could not help but remember her words right after she had seen his eyes: "You have the serum in you." And the greenish hue that tinted their invisibility worried him greatly.

After about an hour and a half Sarah started to stir. "Take me home, Bobby," she whined, her eyes barely open, "I want to go home."

Bruce noticed again that she dropped her accent.

"Where is your house?"

She mumbled something into the seat.

"What?"

"At the end of Dewey street, by the forest."

"Okay, I know where that is," he told her, "Go back to sleep."

Sarah did so happily.

After a little more than half an hour (he had gotten lost a few times), they ended up at a little house right at the edge of the forest.

The paint was worn off and one of the windows was held together with duct tape, but one barely noticed due to the many pots of colorful flowers adorning the front lawn.

"Sarah," Bruce said, shaking her gently, "Sarah we're here."

Sarah opened one tired eye to stare out the rainy window at her little house. Sighing, she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door.

"Well, come on then," she said, seeming to regain a little of her usual vigor in the night air, "I think you better come in, seems like we got a whole lot of talking to do."

Bruce nodded, silently agreeing with her, and turned off the car, getting out to walk with her up to her house.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw an old woman watching from the window of the house next door. Sarah waved at her, and the old woman disappeared.

"That's my neighbor, Dinah," Sarah told him, trying to find her keys, "She's an old crone who keeps trying to buy my house so that her deadbeat son can live next-door. I think she's trying to find something to blackmail me with. Oh, don't worry," she told Bruce, noticing the alarm on his face, "She can barely get around, not at all without her walker; she won't bother us. Am I wearing your hoodie?"

"Oh," Bruce said with a blush, "yeah, you had a fever. I wanted to make sure you stayed warm."

The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile, and she would have looked like an embarrassed schoolgirl had she not had dried blood still splotched across her neck and chest.

She seemed to remember the blood the same time he did and quickly pulled his hoodie closed, opening the door and ushering him inside.

 **Author's note: Please forgive me if you live in Alabama! I don't really know the geography because I've never been. Reviews are always appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah's house was small, but undeniably homey. From the doorway he was led into the living room, a tiny space with peeling yellow wallpaper and worn out white couches, with a few overflowing bookshelves here and there. From where he was standing Bruce could see into a little kitchen with peeling floral wallpaper and into a bedroom with a bed that looked much more inviting than his own. ...not that that implied much, he _was_ sleeping in a motel room.

Sarah shut the door behind him and went through the bedroom to the bathroom, where she proceeded to wipe the blood off of herself as Bruce tried desperately not to look at her laundry basket, where a pair of discarded underwear was laid casually on top of the heap.

They spent most of time in silence, Sarah humming as she wiped off the blood with a washcloth.

"We need to talk," she reiterated when she was done.

Sighing so long he practically deflated, Bruce agreed.

A terrible string of nerves overcame Bruce, along with reluctance and a sense of desperation. It had been way to long since he had told anyone about his condition, the last person, Mr. Blue, had ended up cloning his blood without his permission.

All in all, it was not truly a pleasant experience.

Still, Bruce thought as she lead him into the living room, he did woe her. If she had not, well, whatever it was she did, then Bruce might have been shot, or lost his cool, and the whole restaurant, along with all its patrons, would have been destroyed.

It had been so long since he lost control that he shuttered to think about it.

She plopped down on the largest couch and Bruce carefully sat down on the coffee table so he could sit facing toward her. Their knees knocked, and it was too close a position for how much they knew eachother, but Bruce felt a sense of ease with the nearness of her, so he decided he would only move if she asked him to. She didn't.

"So," she said instead, "where should we begin?"

"Wherever you'd like," Bruce replied, hoping that she would think he was being nice, when the real reason he could not answer her was her proximity.

Bruce took a few deep breaths. She was young, he was dangerous, it was never going to happen.

Sarah appeared to be thinking. "Hmm... how about about we start with disguises, you take off yours and then I'll take off mine."

Bruce blinked stupidly. "Sorry, what?"

"Your _disguise,_ are you not wearing one?"

"No," Bruce replied, "are you?"

Sarah smiled and gestured for him to wait. She rushed back into her room and came out with a wig holder, makeup remover wipes, and a contact case.

"I'm so excited," she gushed, "No one has ever seen this before, and you know how disappointing it is when you do something clever and there's no one around to see it."

Bruce nodded, it was something he had often felt as a young scientist.

Sarah gave a little giggle of excitement and started rubbing her hairline with a makeup removing wipe. As she rubbed, Bruce started to notice the skin near her hair took on a rubbery look, almost as though... "Are you wearing a wig?"

Sarah said nothing, but she smiled wickedly and pulled off the wig, taking off the wigcap with it.

Bruce stared in shock.

While her hair before had been long, blonde, and curly, it now hung straight, close cropped to her chin, and was shockingly white.

She laughed a bit at his reaction and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing wistfully.

"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, "I wish I could walk around like this, but people tend to remember someone so young having white hair."

"Is it natural?" Bruce asked, resisting the urge to run his fingers through it.

"No," she replied, "Well, yes. Kind of. I'll explain later, I want to take off the rest of my disguise."

"How come you have such an elaborate disguise but you haven't taken care of your fingerprints?" Bruce asked her as she put the wig on the stand.

"How come you have your fingerprints off but no elaborate disguise? I just didn't think about it, that's all. How'd you do yours?" she questioned, taking the lids off her contact case and pouring saline solution in.

"Well, I sanded my prints off," he told her, causing Sarah to look up in surprise.

"Holy shit, didn't that hurt?"

Bruce shrugged.

"It was necessary. You're overflowing the case by the way."

Sarah looked down and immediately stopped pouring. The saline had flooded and was nearing Bruce.

"Oh darn," she said, going to the kitchen and bringing back a paper towel.

"You dropped your accent," he observed as she mopped up the spill.

Sarah shrugged.

"Well, I figure, what's the point? We both know I'm not who I say I am, and you don't seem dangerous. I mean, you helped me in the restaurant, and you didn't do anything but clean me up when I passed out. I know you're on the run and everything, but so am I, and if I'm a good person why can't you be?"

Bruce flushed; it had been a long time since someone had called him a good person.

"Just take out your contacts," he said with a wave of his hand.

Sarah giggled and did so. Again, Bruce was floored.

While the contacts were cornflower blue her irises were completely white, with nothing but a black ring showing they were separate from the rest of her eyes at all.

"I'm guessing that has the same story as your hair?" Bruce asked, unable to peel his eyes away from hers.

If he hadn't seen her turn them green, and if he didn't himself turn into a monster on a semi-regular basis, he would say looking at her was the strangest thing he had ever seen in his life. With her hair and her eyes she looked ethereal, inhuman, and yet she was sitting on the couch in front of him, smiling and knocking her knees with his as she wrapped herself tighter in his oversized hoodie. She looked like a fallen angel drained of heaven and tucked in the body of a girl.

Bruce could not decide if he wanted to kiss her or run away, so he did neither.

"Tell me your name," he said instead, suddenly desperate to know. Before she was simply Sarah, blonde haired, blue eyed, southern honey Sarah, someone to talk to, and tip, and shamefully jack off to, but now she was different; invisible, colorless, nameless, who glowed green and asked about the serum. That was the thing that bothered him the most, the serum.

Sarah cocked her eyebrow at his eagerness but told him nonetheless: "It's Lenore, Lenore Avellino. You can go ahead and laugh," she told him, seeing his smile, "I know it's rather ugly, my mother used to call me Nora, though, if that's any better."

Bruce shook his head.

"I wasn't going to laugh, it's just... I don't know, I wouldn't expect an invisible girl to be named Lenore. Mine's Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, but you can just call me Bruce."

"Bruce," Lenore repeated, "It's a solid name, fits you well. Never thought you looked like a Bobby. Anyway," she stuck out her hand, "nice to meet you, Bruce."

Bruce chuckled and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you too, Nora."

Nora giggled and knocked her knees against him again, giving Bruce a funny feeling that he quickly crushed down.

He couldn't afford to think like that, not when there was such a huge problem staring him right in the face.

"Nora," he said seriously, hand reaching out to stop her leg from moving, "You said something about a serum earlier, what were you talking about?"

Nora's smile faded away, replaced by a look of confusion.

"But you should know, don't you have it too? I saw your eyes, Bruce, mine do that too."

"Show me."

Nora took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she opened them they were a violently bright radioactive green.

Bruce sucked in a sharp breath and was struck with the same strong feeling he had felt when she had turned invisible in the cafe.

Under gunpoint, Bruce had assumed the emotion was fear, but in her little house, close enough to share breath, he understood that what the feeling was. He _wanted_ her; not just sexually, though he could feel himself growing hard under her atomic gaze, but in every way. He realized, with a start, that he wanted to own her, to dominate her, for her to be _his_ only his, no one else's.

With the realization his eyes turned a matching shade of green.

While she had been perfectly fine before, her demeanor completely changed with his eyes.

Giving a mewl, she exposed her neck and averted her eyes, giving Bruce the only invitation he needed.

He practically launched himself at her, ripping the hoodie off her and tearing the shirt she was wearing.

"Goddamn," he groaned, hands skimming her stomach before gripping her sides with enough force to bruise.

His mouth found the neck that she had so willingly offered, kissing, sucking and nipping the flesh there as she let out high pitched whines and gasps while clutching him closer and wrapping her legs around his waist as he rolled his hips against hers. His mind was clogged, filled, overwhelmed with her, the feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her. She overwhelmed him and felt better than he had his whole life.

He had to have more. He had to have more. He had to have _more._

His left arm left her side and his right arm wound around her and held her impossibly closer.

"Please," she whispered, hand sliding down his back and up his shirt. The feel of her skin on his made him groan, and he wound his left hand in her hair, pulled, and bit her neck.

While the injury only served to heighten Nora's mood, it pulled Bruce completely out of his. The coppery taste of blood jolted him back to reality, and, with a shock, he realized what he was doing.

Quickly, he disentangled himself from Nora, and practically ran to the other side of the room.

The pathetic whimper Nora gave almost made him run back.

Slowly, breathing deeply, the color faded out of their eyes, and Bruce was able to think clearly.

Nora was a wreck. While Bruce was sufficiently ruffled, she looked as though she had been attacked. Her shirt had been wretched off of her, and it dangled precariously from her by the little bit of it was still in tact. With her shirt torn open Bruce could see the marks and bruises all over her neck, stomach, collarbone, and breasts, though he could hardly remember giving them, and her bra was twisted, exposing one baby pink nipple.

She noticed his stare, the way he unconsciously licked his lips and palmed his cock, yet she did nothing to dissuade him, thinking only of how good he felt, how powerful he had held her, and made her feel wanted.

Goddamn, neither had wanted anything more in their lives, so of course Bruce turned and fled, running out the back door.

Nora sat still, almost in shock, as she heard him start his truck and drive away. She waited until she could hear the sound of the truck's obnoxious motor no more, and then slipped one hand down her pants, the other flying to her exposed breast. She had some unfinished business to attend to.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn't see each other for two weeks, not for Nora's lack of trying though.

After a fairly amazing orgasm, she had taken a shower, made herself some tea, and sat and thought about it all.

It had to be some sort of chemical reaction. They had the same serum in them, and it would only make sense that they would react to each other when it flared. She was a little confused about their almost sex, but figured it was more about domination than it was about fucking. Sort of like wolves.

Nora smiled. It was actually pretty cool when she thought about it.

There was a spot of irritation at being the submissive one, but he _was_ older, and knew more about their way of life then she did, so it did make sense. And, she thought with a smile, it had felt _amazing._ Like something that had been missing clicked into place.

He had seemed panicked though, she remembered, the smile slipping from her face as she remembered his abrupt departure.

'Well,' she thought, 'I wouldn't be too eager to assault someone I barely know either."

She resolved to tell him when he came next into the restaurant that she understood, and as long as all other instances were consensual she didn't have a problem with them. In fact, she thought as she smiled wickedly, she would encourage them.

Bruce, however, didn't appear at the restaurant. She waited ten days, head jerking every time the bell attached to the door signaled, and then called the electrician's that she knew Bruce worked at.

It wasn't until someone who was definitely _not_ Bruce showed up to fix the lights that she remembered she had not requested him.

She resolved to wait three more days, and then if he still avoided her she would show up where he lived. Only, she didn't know where he lived, so, after two weeks of not seeing him, Nora showed up at Bruce's work.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Bruce had been having his lunch in the break room in relative peace, with Donny and Dwayne (his co-workers) making minimum noise for once while he read the paper.

The peace and quiet was ruined, however, by his boss's voice.

"Bobby!" Heartman yelled, "Up front! Now!"

Bruce sighed, but did as he was told, Dwayne and Donny trailing not so innocently behind him.

He wondered what he was needed for; typically when he was called up it was for Heartman to yell at him for something or other, which was probably why his co-workers trailed behind him. They always liked to see- "Sarah."

For it was Sarah, he could not say that the blonde hair, blue eyed girl was his Nora, his radioactive girl. Not that she was his though.

He cleared his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

She cocked an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh, you _know_ why I'm here. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Bruce's coworkers watched the interaction with interest, small town gossip being a currency almost as much as money.

Bruce, of course, was ashamed, but he preferred not to air his dirty laundry in front of his coworkers. Plus, he didn't really _know_ her. He didn't know her temper, didn't know how well she could keep a secret.

"We'll talk later," he told her, not unkindly.

"No," she fumed, "We'll talk _now._ "

Unseen, under her contacts, her eyes flashed green and Bruce tensed, the other guy growling in the back of his mind, telling him to grab, to bite, to _dominate._

He grit his teeth, glaring at her, and Nora cowed.

"Tonight then," she demanded, voice softer but no less determined.

Bruce nodded, wanting her to leave as soon as possible, if only because there was nothing more he wanted than to be near her.

"My place, seven o'clock, be there," she demanded, and whirled out of the door, leaving before he could confirm the time.

Bruce sighed, warding off the questions of his coworkers as he contemplated meeting her.

After briefly considering fleeing the country, Bruce showed up at Nora's at 7:45, scared, curious, and a little horny.

Nora answered the door before he could ring the bell, looking at Bruce with colorless eyes under the hood of the hoodie he had left there.

She ushered him inside quickly, and once the door was locked she dropped the hood, Bruce being met again with the woman he had first seen two weeks ago.

She was stunning, and the guilt ripped him apart.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce burst out, "I've tried so hard not to hurt people and I never meant to hurt you. What I did was inexcusable and dangerous and I would understand if you don't want to see me again. Just give me a few days to pack my things and quit my job and I'll be out of your hair., I promise I-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," said Nora, putting up her hands as though trying to placate a wild beast, "Who said anything about you leaving? Bruce, I wanted to talk to you to tell you that I _understand._ We have weird chemicals in our bodies, and they reacted weirdly. It's not a huge surprise, Bruce, just common sense. I was more mad at you for disappearing afterward! Now, can we sit down and talk about this like adults?"

Bruce stood stock still.

He had imagined many different things; her yelling, attacking him, standing in silence, or calling the police. His wildest dreams had not had her not even feeling his actions needed forgiveness.

He sat down dumbly.

"Good," Nora told him, as though praising a dog, "Now, do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please," he told her, bewildered, and she whisked away into the kitchen.

While he listened to her rattle about he thought of what she just said.

A chemical reaction. It was the most logical solution, and the one Bruce feared the most. For one, it meant that Bruce was a slave to what was inside him, cursed even when not in his larger form. What he feared most though is that Nora had gamma in her.

No matter how much he sometimes hated the people of the world, he would not wish his affliction on his worst enemy. Yet, she had turned invisible. The situation was getting curiouser and curiouser.

Suddenly a feeling of panic broke through his thoughts and he rushed into the kitchen, where Nora was standing, sucking on her finger.

"Don't worry, it's okay," she said quickly, seeing the panic in his eyes, "I just burned myself a little, that's all."

Bruce's feeling of panic subsided somewhat, but he still had the urge to check her over.

After about thirty seconds of awkward silence, Nora seemed to guess what he was he wanted, and held out her injured hand to him.

In a parallel to the last time he was there, he crossed the room and invaded her space. This time, however, he took her hand instead of her submission.

Her finger was still glossy with spit, and Bruce swallowed hard, trying not to think of when her neck was glossy with his.

Turning his attention back to her hand, he noticed that the tip of her finger was red and swollen, but otherwise okay.

Bruce could feel the panic slip out of him as he looked over her, and gave a weak smile.

"You'll be fine," he told her.

Nora laughed, seemingly unperturbed by his awkwardness.

"I _told_ you so," she teased, "Sit, I'll fix your tea."

Bruce took a seat at the kitchen table and watched her pour the water into a pair of mugs shaped like animals.

"What kind?" she asked him, "I have peach, or jasmine, or... looks like that's it actually."

Bruce, who had never really liked peaches, went with jasmine.

After putting the bags in (she had chosen peach herself) she gracefully sat in a chair to his left and looked at him expectantly.

"So, how are we gonna do this?" she asked.

Bruce pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Well, we obviously have some sort of chemical inside the both of us that wants to combine, but in order to determine what it is I'll need to know what was in the serum you took."

Nora blushed.

"Well, you see, the thing about that is... I don't really know, I sort of took it by accident."

Bruce blinked.

"Accident? Lenore, how could you have taken it by accident?"

Nora shifted in her seat.

"Well, I was trying to get away from the police, and I couldn't think of anything else and-"

"Wait, back up, the police?"

She bit her lip.

"It's a long story."

"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine," he said, a lot more casually than he felt.

Collapsing back into the chair, Nora sighed loudly and clutched her tea tightly.

"Hmmm, well I guess I'll start at the beginning. I grew up in New York, which is kind of important I guess, given the mafia."

"The mafia!" Bruce interjected.

"Yes," she said, pushing her white hair out of her face as she sunk deeper in the chair, "Now hush.

"My father was a doctor in a clinic and my mother was a midwife, mostly for people who couldn't afford to go to the hospital, so they both worked long hours and didn't really make much. I was fine most of the time; there was a girl who lived next door who was my age, whose mother was fond of spoiling me and when I was ten my mother started bringing me on jobs, but my brother, Frankie, well... he had a hard time of it.

"He was twelve years older than me, well, I guess he still is, and so I wasn't the best company. He started running with the mobsters. We're only second generation American, so we still fit in with the Italians pretty well. I wasn't really involved in it, there was never any reason for me to be. But then I turned seventeen."

"What's so important about seventeen?" Bruce asked when she finished.

"Seventeen is the age of consent in New York, and it was also the age my brother decided to take me round and meet his friends."

"Oh my god," Bruce breathed, horrified by the implications.

"No, no," Nora protested quickly, "He didn't pimp me out or anything, he just thought that if he flaunted his pretty little sister around he might get some attention from the higher-ups, you know help him rise in the ranks, and it worked."

At this point Nora's eyes glazed over and she seemed to look through Bruce instead of at him.

"His name was Vincent Pacetti. He was one of the higherups, mean as a bulldog and richer than sin. I was absolutely smitten, and he seemed to be rather taken with me, which thrilled my brother to no end. Frankie rose quickly in the ranks, and me, well, I was living a fairytale.

"Vincent was constantly busy, and made up for it in extravagant gifts. He took me to parties and bought me diamonds, and was pretty good looking to boot. My parents hated him, as he was over twenty years older than me, and the sex wasn't that good, but what did I care for parents or sex when the whole of New York was my playground? Everything was perfect, but I was unable to stay blind for too long.

"A little after a year in the glitz and the glamour had worn off. I had cut off my parents and friends, my brother was in a fight with a rival gang that had almost killed him, and I didn't have anyone to turn to with my doubts. I stayed quiet, tried to drown myself in rubies and champagne, but things began to pile up.

"Dead bodies were found, policemen started showing up, and one night I slipped in a puddle of blood on the kitchen floor. There was a trashbag filled with a dismembered woman in the fridge. I tried to leave, but Vincent caught me and he beat the shit out of me. Then- Bruce!" she exclaimed, stopping her story.

Bruce had stood up almost violently when he heard of her abuse, and his chair had been knocked out from under him.

For a few dangerous moments, neither of them moved; Nora frozen in shock as Bruce leaned on the table, hands splayed wide as he breathed raggedly like a wild animal.

The other guy raged in the back of his mind, trying to move to the forefront.

How dare that man hurt her! How dare that bastard touch what was his!

The beast inside him raged and screamed, wanting to rip, tear, _smash._

Bruce fought the monster desperately, trying to keep it down.

Nora moved.

"No," Bruce rasped as she neared him slowly, "Lenore..."

But she didn't heed his warning. She slipped under his arm, trapping herself between Bruce and the table, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Look at me," she told him, "Look at me, Bruce. I'm fine, see? It was a long time ago, so there's nothing you can do about it now."

Surprisingly, it was not Bruce, but the other guy who listened to her words, and he reluctantly climbed into the back of the doctor's mind once more.

Bruce was ragged, becoming utterly exhausted the instant the beast retracted. It took all his strength not to collapse on Nora, and she seemed to notice.

"Come on," she told him, and took his hand, leading him through the house into the bedroom.

"No," Bruce protested weakly as she tried to push him down on the bed, "No, this is a bad idea. I won't put you in a position where-"

"Oh hush," she told him, "You're tired and I promise I'll keep my clothes on."

Bruce winced, thinking back to when he had torn them off of her.

"Again, I'm so-"

"Don't say sorry, Bruce," Nora said, exasperated, "Just lay down."

Bruce sighed and, under Nora's school-teacher glare, took off his shoes, belt, and glasses, and crawled into her bed.

"Do you... do you want me to join you?" she asked, and for the first time that night she sounded uncertain.

Of course he wanted her to, wanted her in his arms, content and safe from the terrors of the world, of the people who could harm her. It hurt him to his very core to think that he was one of those people.

He knew he should tell her no, but he was just so _tired,_ and he couldn't bring himself to ask her to leave.

"Only if you want to," he answered.

Her uncertainty vanished and she crawled in next to him, tangling her legs in his and laying her head on his chest.

He felt a swell of peace in him as he looked at her white hair splayed across his shirt, and he felt he could continue.

"What happened after that?" he asked, voice rumbling through his chest into her ear.

She lifted her head to look at him.

"Bruce... are you sure?"

Bruce nodded.

"I want to know."

Nora sighed, but laid her head down and continued to speak.

"It took weeks for me to recover, and even though he said he was sorry I was terrified. I told him I wouldn't run again, but all I could think of was how to get away. I told my brother about it because I didn't know who else to turn to. He told me he'd smuggle me out on a greyhound bus, but he got arrested a few days before I was supposed to go and I was too scared to go without him.

"I stayed for another six months, and then my salvation had come. Vincent started talking about a serum; he said that his boss had asked him to hold onto it for him, said it would make them both billionaires. I started to formulate a plan. If I stole the serum I would have a bargaining chip for when I ran away again. If Vincent didn't catch me I would just throw it away, but if I was caught it could be the difference between life and death.

"At twelve o'clock that night the serum arrived at Vincent's house, at one o'clock that morning I left with it.

"I should have run like the wind, gotten the fuck out of the city and never looked back, but I went to my brother's apartment to get my things, and the next thing I knew the police were knocking on the door. I had rehearsed what to say to the mafia time and time again, but the police? I had no idea. All I knew was that I was carrying stolen property, and that if I went to jail Vincent would just get one of the other women to kill me. If I got rid of the evidence maybe I would have a chance. I didn't know what to do, so I injected it.

"I passed out, but when I woke up the apartment was ransacked, the police were gone, and I was green. I raced to the mirror but I couldn't see anything. I was invisible! The realization was wonderful. Finally I was free of Vincent! I caught a bus to Pennsylvania, and planned to keep going, but bad things started to happen. I started to vomit, bleed, and flicker in and out. One moment I would be invisible, the next anyone could see me. I was nineteen and terrified.

"When I leveled out a bit I purchased a motel room with what little money I had and learned how to control myself there. It took months for me to figure out how to work it, and by that time my only meals where what the soup kitchen provided, and I was terrified Vincent would find me. My hair started to change and my eyes started to pale. I needed food, a disguise, and to get away from New York. I did the only thing I could do."

Bruce closed his eyes at the implication and muttered, "Horrible."

Nora's temper flared, and she raised herself to address him.

"Don't you dare do that, Bruce, I had no choice! And if you think I _wanted_ to suck dicks in a dark alleyway then you've got another thing coming, you-"

"Lenore!" he exclaimed, "Calm down! I'm not implying- I mean, I don't think any less of you for- I'm just mad that you had to."

"Oh," she said, deflating slightly, "Okay."

She draped herself back over him, and his thumb skimmed over her arm.

Taking a few deep breaths, she continued with her story: "I bought a few wigs first, then colored contacts, finally food. The only thing left was for me to leave. I left and took refuge in West Virginia, staying there working at a gas station and, well, the alley behind it, until I had enough money to buy this house. Then I came here, and I've been here ever since."

Bruce was quiet for a few moments, but he couldn't help but ask, "How old are you?"

"Twenty one," she answered, feeling Bruce stiffen under her, "Why? How old are you?"

"Thirty six," he answered, flushing. Shifting uncomfortably, he started to rise.

Nora pushed him back down with a scoff.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded, "We're not doing anything wrong here, and if we were," she said with a scandalous grin, "You would definitely not be the oldest man I've ever had."

Balking, Bruce told her: "I did _not_ need to hear that," but he settled down anyway.

Neither of them said anything for a long while after that.

After a while, Nora began to hum a tune and and Bruce began to run his fingers through her hair.

Suddenly, he was struck with a reminder of Betty, and the way things used to be. She never hummed, and her hair was often too tangled to run his fingers through it, but they did used to lie like this, quiet, away from the rest of the world.

God, he missed her.

"What are you thinking about?" Nora asked when she felt his fingers still.

Wisely deciding not to mention the fact he was thinking about another woman, he lied.

"Thinking about how pure you are."

She snorted.

"Bruce, were you listening to nothing I said? I was a prostitute, I was in the mafia! I'm working toward good now, but I'm far from pure."

"But everything you did was for self-preservation," he argued, "Everything I did was for greed, pride, glory, selfishness... I wouldn't be here if I wasn't so goddamn selfish. I should have cleared out of town the second I knew that I was-" his jaw snapped shut.

"Knew you were what?"

Bruce cleared his throat and blushed.

"Drawn to you."

The air seemed to lay heavy between the two, and Bruce nearly held his breath as he imagined the look on her face, glad that he could only see the back of her head.

Lenore's laughter seemed to break through the room like a ray of sun through the clouds.

"That's so cheesy! …I know what you mean though, I feel, better, around you. I've felt... uneasy, since I've taken the serum, but with you I feel almost normal again. Safer, more secure."

Bruce hummed in agreement. Now that he thought about it, he _had_ felt calmer since he met her. The layers of anger that he kept carefully stacked seemed to fade into the background when he was around Lenore, there, but not overwhelming, not in constant need of control.

They stayed quiet for a little while longer, and just as Bruce felt himself beginning to doze off Nora asked him the question he had been fearing for days.

"Bruce, you said the serum made you dangerous. What did you mean by that?"

Immediately every muscle in his body tensed, and he was instantly wide awake.

"Lenore," he started slowly, wishing he had pretended to be asleep, "I don't want- I just don't- it's not relevant."

"Bullshit!" Nora exclaimed, flying off of him to sit on her knees, tangled up in blankets, "Of course it's relevant! I turn invisible and you do god knows what and we're both running from the police and I have no idea if you're a serial killer or a terrorist and I've been alone for so goddamn long that I am stupid enough to trust you and I really want you to be somebody worthy of trust and so everything has to be relevant because I don't know what is!"

Bruce stared at her blankly, shocked at her rush of words, and did not move until Nora tried to get off the bed and fell on to the floor because of her entanglement in the blankets. She staunchly refused his help, however, batting his arms away.

"Don't you dare touch me, Bruce Banner, if that is even your real name."

"Of course it's-" he started, but was interrupted mid-sentence by Nora's ramblings.

"Well, how am I supposed to know! I hardly know anything about you but I went and spilled my whole life story to you and don't touch me you piece of-"

"Lenore!" he barked, grabbing a hold of her wrists.

Immediately she stilled, eyes cast down and neck exposed.

Something in Bruce purred in satisfaction at the display, but the rest of him shirked away from the feeling. He let go of her wrists as though he had been burned, and her eyes flickered to his, tinged with green.

"I..." he stuttered, looking away, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just... Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Lenore's exasperated look softened as she looked upon his burning red face, and she nodded.

"That's fine, so long as I get the hear it. You can't ask me to give up everything and not give in return."

Bruce sighed, he knew that what she was asking him was hardly unreasonable, but he hadn't even told _Betty_ everything! He was closed-lipped by nature, and didn't even particularly like when people asked him simple things like his favorite movie or ice cream flavor.

Nora cleared her throat impatiently.

"Yes, that's fair," he told her, slumping against the side of the bed in defeat.

"Pinky promise?" she asked, a soft smile curving her lips and a pale hand offering the said finger.

Despite himself, and despite the horribly awkward situation he was in, Bruce laughed and extended his own pinky, shaking hers.

They smiled at each other for a moment, but she just couldn't keep quiet.

"But I just don't understand how-"

"Lenore!" Bruce groaned, playfully putting a hand over her mouth.

She licked it, her tongue warm and wet, and he let her go in mock disgust.

They laughed for a little while, the sound foreign in the pair's unhappy lives, but it was short lived, and they soon fell silent once more.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Nora asked, laying her head against his shoulder.

Bruce shrugged, jostling Nora.

"I suppose."

"I'll return it," she reassured, "It takes two and all that. Anyway, what I'm asking is for you not to lie to me. I've got a lot of things on my plate, and I don't want questioning your honesty to be one of them. And it's not just for tomorrow either, it's for as long as we know each other. If you don't want to answer something plead the fifth, I know it would be highly unreasonable for you to tell me everything about you, and there's shit I'll never tell you. Unless, of course, the situation is life threatening, or it's something essential to know. Is that good with you?"

Instantly a heavy weight lifted off of his chest, and he let out a breath that he didn't know he had even been holding. He had been worried that the ultimatum for her company would be nothing save his life's story, and he wouldn't be ready to do that anytime soon. Telling her he occasionally turned into the other guy would be hard, extremely so, but he wouldn't have to tell her the circumstances surrounding it.

Wouldn't have to tell her about the nights in alleyways with his fingers against his pulse, the hot flashes of rage that made him feel just like his father, Betty, beautiful Betty lying cold against the hospital sheets, the fear in his heart as he jumped out of the helicopter, prepared to meet the Abomination. It would be easier to tell her he turned into a monster on the outside than telling her he constantly felt like one on the inside.

"Yes," he replied, "Yes, I think I can do that."

"Good," she said, worry lines smoothing as her body relaxed, "Come on, let's go to bed."

"Alright," Bruce answered, standing, "I can take the couch."

Lenore snorted, "No fucking way, mister. You look like you haven't gotten sleep in days. Either I sleep on the couch or you sleep in here with me; both ways you're taking the bed."

"I can sleep on the couch," he protested, "I promise it will be much more comfortable than some of the places I've laid my head."

"Bruce," she chastised, folding her arms, "You are sleeping in my bed if I had to fight you into it, so all you have to do is decide if you want me in it too."

Bruce took a deep breath, about to counter and argue her proposal, when suddenly an alternative popped into his head. He could tell her to sleep in the bed with him, and once she was safely dreaming he would sneak into the living room and sleep on the couch. It was the perfect plan.

He sighed in pretend defeat.

"Alright, we'll both sleep in here, there's no reason why you shouldn't sleep in your own bed."

Nora beamed.

"Good; there's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, and you're welcome to use my shower if you like, though I'm not sure I have any clothes that would fit you."

"Don't worry," he reassured, "I always have a few sets in my truck. You should start doing the same with yours if you're not already, coming back home to get your things isn't always an option."

Nora laughed.

"You should write a book, ' _Being On the Run for Dummies'"_

"Sorry," Bruce said quickly, flushing, "I didn't mean to sound condescending, I was just trying to -"

"It's fine, Bruce," she interrupted, "Everything I know about avoiding cops is from the movies, so you're actually going to be helpful."

Bruce smiled.

"That's good to know."

They grinned at each other for a few moments and then set about getting off the floor and untangling themselves from the blankets; Bruce heading for his car and Nora heading for her closet.

It turned out Lenore's extra toothbrush was unnecessary, as Bruce kept enough necessities in his truck to last him for a few months.

After they both changed while desperately trying not to think of the other naked in the next room, they met in the bathroom to brush their teeth.

Though it was a painfully mundane task they both felt a strong sense of bizarreness as they stared at each other in the mirror, mouths filled with toothpaste. Betty had been the last person Bruce had done anything like this with, and the last time Lenore had brushed her teeth with anyone was with her brother, as Vincent had never done anything with her that wasn't fucking her or showing her off.

After they rinsed out their mouths an awkward silence landed on the bathroom; Bruce had no idea what to do. Should he ask her what side of the bed she slept on? Would they share the same blanket? Would she wake up when he tried to move to the couch? Why was she looking at him like that?

Lenore's face was screwed up like she was concentrating hard on something.

"Um, Nora?" he questioned, about to ask if she was alright. However, before he could say anything she blurted out: "Can I touch you?"

Bruce blinked stupidly.

"Pardon?"

"When we're in bed," she clarified, a blush creeping up into her cheeks.

"I just thought it would be awkward if we pretended the other wasn't there. Besides, I feel better when I'm near you, calmer, like I haven't since the serum."

Bruce's stomach dropped when she mentioned the serum, and he had to remind himself the chemistry between them was just that, chemicals. He knew he should say no, but it had been so long since he had held a woman, and he couldn't stop thinking about the rare feeling of contentment he experienced when she had let him comb his fingers through her hair just an hour before.

"Yeah," he heard himself say, "Yeah, I'd like that."

He knew he would regret it later, but it was hard to regret anything with her supernova smile aimed at him.

"Good," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom, "Which side do you sleep on?"

"The one closest to the door," he replied, worried that she would laugh at him for his paranoia.

She only nodded, however, and led him toward the bed, crawling over his side to her's and then sliding under the blankets. There was something peaceful about the way he climbed in after her, and as he took her into his arms and inhaled the scent of strawberry shampoo, he decided that he might not leave for the couch after all.


	5. Chapter 5

When Bruce woke up they were no longer comfortably snuggled but rather starfished out, with their legs tangled together and his arm across her stomach.

Regardless, it was the best sleep he'd had in a while, and he felt blissfully relaxed; that is, until he looked at the clock on Nora's night stand.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, he had to be at work in ten minutes.

"Nora," he murmured, prodding her gently while getting out of bed.

Instantly, Lenore sat up like a bullet, hands balled into fists.

"Relax, relax," Bruce urged, hands held out to show he meant no harm.

"Oh," she said dropping her hands pathetically and smiling apologetically, "Sorry, Bruce, I forgot you were... do you want breakfast?"

Bruce shook his head, taking off his pajama pants and looking on the floor for his jeans, both him and Nora pretending like he wasn't half hard under his boxers.

"I don't have time, Nora, I have to get to work," he told her, locating his pants and putting them on.

"Just some toast then," Nora wheedled, getting out of bed as well and handing him his shirt, "or some fruit?"

"Fruit would be nice," Bruce told her, voice still horse from sleep as he went into the bathroom to pee.

After he relived himself, and washed his hands and face, he went into the kitchen to find that Nora had procured an apple, a banana, and a water bottle filled with orange juice.

Though the meal required hardly any preparation, Bruce couldn't help but feel deeply touched at the thought. It had been so long since he had experienced true kindness, even a few pieces of fruit felt like a grand gesture to him.

"Thank you," he told her, and she looked slightly taken aback by the heartfeltness of it.

"Anytime," she answered back, just as sincerely, smiling before shifting gears as Bruce gathered up the food, preparing to leave, "I'll be working when you get off, and my shift doesn't end till one, but come by and have dinner, we'll get a chance to talk then."

"Sounds good," Bruce replied, and then headed out the door.

#####################################0

The day seemed to drag on for Bruce, and his curious coworkers badgering him about Nora truly did not improve his mood.

After he had fixed the appropriate amount of lights and his boss called it a day, he went back to his hotel for a shower before heading to the restaurant to meet Lenore.

When he entered the restaurant he was taken aback by the wig and contacts she was wearing, but the sly wink she threw his way made him smile.

He was seated and served by another waitress, but about halfway through his meal Nora slid into his booth, pressing her thigh flush against his.

Bruce almost choked on his green beans when she squeezed his knee, but luckily, Nora didn't seem to notice.

"I've been thinking, it's got to be draining you to stay at that motel, I know you're not paid very much. Move into my place- don't give me that look, just listen- if you pitch in with the bills and the groceries it should cost you less than what you're paying now, and it's a load off my back financially. We don't even work the same hours, so we'll probably sleep mostly at different times, if you're worried about the bed situation. It's all worked out, see, you don't really have a good argument!"

But Bruce was shaking his head.

"It's too dangerous, _I'm_ too dangerous. I don't want to hurt you."

Nora just rolled her eyes.

"One: we will discuss just why you keep insisting you're dangerous because at this point I'm starting to believe you're just making it up, and two: _I literally turn invisible._ "

This last part was whispered carefully into Bruce's ear, even though the closest people were halfway across the restaurant.

"I can escape any situation whenever I want," Nora continued, "I'm definitely not as at risk as the average citizen."

Bruce paused. He hadn't thought of it from that angle before.

When Nora noticed Bruce's lack of response she grinned wickedly and took a key out of her pocket, placing it on the table next to Bruce's drink.

"See you at home, Bruce," she said with a wink, and with another squeeze of his knee, she was gone.

Sighing, Bruce wondered when he had become the type of man to give in so easily.

He finished his meal, resisted the urge to glare at Nora, and left the restaurant; the key nestled safely in his pocket.

He had very few things in his motel room, mostly books, and he was able to pack these with ease.

After checking out with the receptionist and refusing to tell her why (as she was a notorious gossip), he let himself into Nora's house, hung his clothes in the closet, and brushed his teeth before falling asleep on the couch.

He awoke at seven by accident, and grinned as he saw the sunlight streaming through the thin white curtains. It was definitely a better wake up than he'd ever had in that musty old motel room.

He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, sighing in exasperation as he looked over at Nora.

Nora had fallen asleep on the loveseat, neck positioned in a way that could not be anything but painful.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Bruce stood and scooped her up, taking her to her bedroom to put her in the bed.

Though she still slept she gripped onto Bruce's shirtsleeves and made a small whimpering noise in the back of her throat when he tried to move away.

'What the hell,' Bruce thought, and curled up on the bed beside her; he didn't have to be at work for two more hours anyway.

/

 **Sorry about the wait! Thanks for sticking with me!**


	6. Chapter 6

This time when Bruce awoke, it was to the alarm on his wristwatch. Luckily Nora didn't stir, so he was able to disentangle himself from Nora and make his way to work.

The next two weeks passed in this fashion, Bruce working days and Nora working nights, only interacting for maybe ten minutes a day at the house, as their days off were different.

Bruce still made frequent stops to the diner at dinnertime, and Nora would take her fifteen minute break with him, but they couldn't really talk about anything other than their days, as it was such a public place.

The locals had renewed interest in Bruce after he checked out of the motel, and though he politely declined telling anyone where he lived his truck was soon seen in front of Nora's house and the game was up.

Anywhere else and this would not have been a big deal, however, in such a small town the news hit like an explosion. Two non-churchgoers living together out of wedlock? And with such a large age difference? Well, it was scandalous.

People started requesting Bruce for things they would typically fix themselves, more interested in gossip than saving money. Bruce was a constant disappointment, however, as he hated nothing more than talking about himself, and always deflected the questions.

Nora was also not above the commotion, the most notable incident being the pastor and his wife stopping by for a late dinner, telling her she was living in sin, and leaving a pamphlet for the church instead of a tip.

A change came, however, on a Wednesday evening, and toppled Bruce's carefully balanced life.

"I got a promotion," Nora told him, beaming as she stole french fries off his plate.

"Congratulations!" he said sincerely, squeezing her shoulder. Physically, he still wasn't much for affection, especially in public, but Nora was so naturally tactile that that it was starting to rub off on him.

"Thanks, but get this," she exclaimed, eager to get on with her news, "I'm working day shifts! I won't have to live like a vampire anymore!"

Bruce congratulated her once more, but as she continued to talk he felt a quiet sense of dread come over him, settling down to nap in the pit of his stomach.

He had not told Nora this, but he was actually very glad that they hardly saw each other.

Because they could not have lengthy conversations, Bruce had been able to avoid talking about the other guy.

In fact, he occasionally had pretended to be asleep when she came home, to continue to evade her questions.

The other good thing about barely seeing her was that it was harder to get attached. He already liked her a great deal more than he should, and he thought it best for both his safety and hers that he not be fond of her.

The rest of the meal he finished in silence, apart from the occasional nod or grunt of affirmation to show Nora he was listening.

Tonight would be the last night he would have alone, and when he reached the house he packed and unpacked his things over and over, unsure if he should stay or leave.

To leave would be best, he knew that, knew how much safer it would make the both of them. And yet, every time he was fully packed, he would sigh and set about undoing it.

The thing was (and it was so strange that Bruce could hardly believe it), he was _happy_ here. He knew that if he left he would miss the way Nora's stuff intermingled with his on the counter, the way that he woke every morning with his nose in her hair, or how Nora would pack his lunch as long as he went grocery shopping.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't even near it, but it was home, and he didn't think he could bring himself to leave.

He finally decided he wasn't going to do anything at the moment, and readied himself for bed, sliding under the blankets just as Nora's car pulled into the driveway.

He heard her open the door and saw her come into the bedroom, pretending to sleep as she got ready for bed, and not acknowledging her as she slipped under the blankets.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, but then Nora brought her face close to his.

For a wild moment Bruce thought that she would kiss him, but she simply leaned to whisper in his ear.

"I don't know if you're awake, but I just want to say that I found your suitcase."

Here she paused, and Bruce scarcely dared to breath, but she continued on a breaking voice, and Bruce could tell she was trying not to cry.

"I don't know how much I mean to you, but I've been treated so cruelly for so long that your kindness means the world to me. If you truly want to leave I won't try and stop you, I know I have no claim to you. But... if my opinion matters, I don't want you to go."

Bruce waited until he was certain she was asleep, and then he broke down and cried.

It had been so long since someone had cared for him that he hadn't even considered that she might want him to stay. Such a simple thing should not have made him cry, but he too, had been lacking kindness; though the kindness he had lacked was for himself.

And in that moment, lying next to a waitress in rural Alabama, he vowed that he would never leave her, not until she asked him to.

Though he had been living with Nora for quite a few weeks now, the next day still struck Bruce as bizarre.

He woke up to the smell of bacon in the air, which is something that hadn't happened since his mother cooked for him as a child.

Once his mother had died, his father hadn't ever cooked and the only two women he had ever fallen in love with hadn't either. Michelle, the woman he had dated in college, couldn't be bothered, and Betty had been terrible at cooking as he was.

He lay in bed for a few more moments, a feeling quite like no other pouring over him like honey. He felt like he was home.

As soon as he realized this his eyes shot open, and he sat up, the feeling leaving as soon as it came. He had to tell Lenore about the Other Guy, and fast. If she was going to kick him out it would be better for her to do it now, before he grew to care for her.

A little voice in his head told him it was far too late for that, but he tried not to pay any attention.

He got up, used the restroom, stared at himself for ten minutes in the mirror, and finally went into the kitchen.

By the time he made it into the kitchen Nora had finished cooking. Bacon, hashbrowns, eggs, and biscuits smothered in gravy were laid out on the table.

Bruce would honestly have preferred fruit and oatmeal, but he politely declined telling Nora, who was pouring juice with shaking hands.

"Impressive, right?" she said, a nervous laugh escaping her lips, "I should have been a cook, instead of a waitress."

Bruce didn't smile.

"Nora..." he said, dragging his hand over his face and sighing, "Please sit down, I have something to tell you."

Nora nodded, smile dropping, and sat down at the table resignedly.

Bruce waited a few moments to calm his beating heart, and then said, "Have you ever heard of the Hulk?"

Nora blinked.

"What? Yeah, a bit, but... what?"

"It's relevant," Bruce reassured, "I promise. Now, what do you know about him?"

"Just that he's some sort of mutant that wrecked Manhattan. That he was some sort of doctor but his name was never... Bruce, you're not about to tell me you're the Hulk, are you?"

Bruce said nothing, but made himself very small, reminding Nora of a puppy about to be kicked.

She simply stared at him for a long moment, the expression on her face unreadable, then she started to laugh. She laughed and laughed, tears streaming down her face while she clutched her stomach, Bruce looking on, utterly bewildered.

After a while, Nora was able to calm down enough to speak.

"You are the nicest guy I've ever met, and you have the mother of all anger issues! I just can't catch a break, can I? My Johns, Vincent, even my brother used to..." But here she trailed off, her laughs morphing into sobs.

"Nora," Bruce said, the name flying from his lips, wretched, broken, "I would never... I... I'm sorry, I understand. Give me a moment to pack and then I'll be... I'll be gone."

"Bruce!" Nora hiccuped, rising from her chair and hugging him with a ferocity that he had never known, "You misunderstand! It's just... You're the Hulk, and yet I've never known a man kinder to me!"

And suddenly Bruce was crying too, for he had been so _cruel_. He had attacked her, avoided her, pretended to be asleep just so he wouldn't have to talk to her, listened to her story and not told her his, and yet _he_ was the kindest man she had ever known. He could only imagine what she had been through.

And so there they were, two adults clinging to each other like children and crying in the kitchen while their breakfast went cold.

"We're an odd couple, aren't we?" Nora asked after they had calmed down.

"Us?" Bruce said with a laugh, "We're the most normal people I know!"

"That's because you don't know anybody else," she replied, "Now sit down, breakfast is getting cold."

They smiled at each other for a second, and then they both sat down to eat.

"So," Nora started, pushing her eggs around on her plate with her fork, "the Hulk, huh?"

Bruce winced. "I typically call him the Other Guy."

"What happened?" Nora pressed, "How did you-"

"I was selfish. I was certain it would work, and I wasn't willing to wait the years that animal and human testing would take. I was greedy, I wanted glory."

"What was the serum supposed to be for?" she asked tentatively, scooping hashbrowns onto her fork.

"I was developing it for the army. It was supposed to make soldiers stronger, more resistant to damage, but... you see how it turned out. I was convinced I would get the nobel prize for it. If I hadn't been so eager to see my name in print I might have."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment, wondering what might have been before Nora reached across the table to cover his hand with her own.

"We all have our faults, Bruce. Some are just... greener than others."

He let out a chuckle and squeezed her hand.

"Thank you, but some faults are inexcusable. I've... I've killed people, Nora."

"I know," she replied quietly, looking older than he had ever seen her, "But you've been good to me, Bruce, and you're what I've got."

The words hit Bruce harder than she meant them to, and for the second time that day he made a resolution. He had never had someone rely on him so completely, and he made a resolve not to let her down.

And as he watched her spear her eggs with her fork, her hair falling in her face, he felt the Hulk agree with him.


	7. Chapter 7

If they had been left alone they may have spent years there, may have fallen in love, may have bought a dog, may have been happy. Bruce, however, was never left alone, and it all came crashing down not even a week later.

Bruce and Nora were watching the news, eating some apple pie that Nora had brought from work when there was a sharp rap on the door.

The two looked at each other in bewilderment before Bruce turned down the volume and Nora cocked her head to the side.

The knock sounded again.

"I'm not wearing my wig!" Nora whisper-shouted, scrambling off the couch, "Tell them I'm in the shower!"

Bruce nodded quickly and waited until he heard the water running before opening the front door.

He had been expecting a sellsman, some missionaries, or even Lenore's neighbor Dinah, but instead he was confronted by two tall, dull looking men in ill fitting suits. Bruce knew who they were before the shorter of the two showed his badge.

"I'm Agent Kramer and this is Agent Wilson, we're with the FBI. Are you Bobby Kipling?"

"Yeah," he answered, playing the part of the bewildered civilian, "What is this about?"

"Can we come in, sir?"

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck.

"I don't know... This is my girlfriend's house and she's in the shower."

"We're federal agents, sir, I'm sure she won't mind. In fact, we'd like to talk to her as well. Her name is Sarah Lym, correct?"

Bruce nodded, too much resistance would look suspicious, though he doubted they weren't suspicious already.

"Sure, let me tell Sarah you're here."

Bruce left them in the living room, confident that the only damning evidence was in the bedroom and his and Nora's cars.

He went through the bedroom on the way through, hiding a stray wig that Nora had left lying on the bed. Knocking on the door, he hoped to god she wasn't naked.

"They're FBI," he whispered when she opened the door (thankfully clothed).

"Do you know what they're here for?"

"No," he started, but before he could get out the rest of his sentence he felt his stomach jerk as though someone had taken a fish hook to the bottom of it.

Nora's eye were lit up neon green, and he could feel her panic as though it were his own.

Without a thought he crowded her back against the door, pressing his body flush against hers, wrapping his right arm around her waist and gently but firmly squeezing the back of her neck with his left hand.

It took almost thirty seconds for her to calm down, but eventually she did, green fading from her eyes.

"What do we do?" she whispered.

"We don't know what they're here for," he responded, mouth barely an inch away from her ear, "So we're playing Bobby and Sarah. I told them you're my girlfriend, do you think you can play along?"

Nora nodded.

"Good girl," he praised, squeezing the back of her neck once more before releasing her.

She glowed under the praise.

They shared one last look and then proceeded to the living room.

Agent Kramer was standing by the front window, and Agent Wilson looked as though he had just stepped in from the kitchen.

Banner didn't doubt that Wilson was listening in at the other bathroom door, and was glad that they had whispered.

Agents Wilson and Kramer sat down on the couch, leaving the couple to sit on the loveseat, Bruce wrapping his arm around Nora.

"You're Sarah Lym?" Kramer asked.

"Why yes I am, sir," she replied, voice as smooth as molasses, "But I'm afraid I don't know what this is about. Bobby said you're from the FBI?"

"Yes, ma'am," Wilson answered, "We're here investigating a series of restaurant stick-ups."

Bruce's mind immediately went to Birmingham, and he was sure Nora's did too, so he had to applaud her acting skills when she gasped.

"Has the restaurant I work at been robbed? Is everyone alright?"

"Your workplace is fine, we're here because of a robbery in Birmingham."

Nora squeezed Bruce's knee and he took over, letting out an obvious sigh of relief.

"Good, you got my phone call then, I'm glad."

Kramer raised his eyebrows.

"So you admit you were the one who made the call?"

Bruce nodded, doing his best to look confident.

"Of course, why would I not?"

"You refused to give your name to the operator and we have surveillance footage of you getting out of your car and throwing the phone in the trashcan."

'Aha!' Bruce thought victoriously, he had been tracked by his license plate number, not his or Nora's faces.

While it was a relief to know that the two agents didn't know their identities, he couldn't immediately think of a reason to throw the phone away, so he squeezed Nora's shoulder.

"That would be my fault actually," Nora said, taking over flawlessly, "I have an illness which makes my blood thinner than a bean pole. I was in the middle of having a horrible nose bleed and Bobby was just trying to keep me from passing out. He threw the phone away because because it was just a disposable cell, and we thought if we stayed on the line until the police came they would make me go to the hospital and... we just can't afford hospital bill right now. Nobody- Nobody got hurt, did they?"

Bruce had to admit that she was a very good actress, with little tears clinging to her bottom eyelashes and her lower lip quivering.

Wilson looked distraught, and Kramer looked highly uncomfortable.

"No one died," Wilson comforted, anxiety clear on his face, "Please don't cry, miss, you did what you could, the call helped the police get there on time."

"Did it really?" she sniffed.

"I told you it would be fine, honey," Bruce told her, wiping the crocodile tear off of her cheek with his thumb. Bruce tried not to linger on how easy the endearment rolled off his tongue as Kramer awkwardly nodded.

"We were able to apprehend one suspect because of the call, however, we are still unsure of the identity of the second perpetrator. We were wondering if you were able to identify them."

"We only passed by on the street, we just saw their backs. Sarah saw the gun and told me to call the police. I put her in the car, drove a few blocks away so the robbers wouldn't see us, called 911, and then got N- …Sarah home."

Wilson nodded, but Kramer's eyes narrowed at the slip-up.

"One last question," Kramer asked, "Could we fingerprint you? Just to rule you both out."

Bruce and Nora looked at each other, Nora wide eyed.

"Cry," Bruce whispered from the corner of his mouth.

Almost immediately her face screwed up and tears started smearing her mascara.

"We didn't do anything wrong!" Nora sobbed, "First I spill oil on myself at the diner, then my paycheck is going to be late, and now we may not be able to pay the rent this month and-"

"Ssh," Bruce comforted, pulling her into his chest before turning toward the detectives, "I think you need to leave, you've certainly upset her enough."

Wilson scrambled to his feet while apologizing, but Kramer merely nodded and corralled his partner to the door, a suspicious eye on Nora's shaking shoulders.

Nora stopped crying as soon as the door shut, but they did not move until the engine started and the car drove away. They sat in silence for a long time, before Nora sighed and put her head in her hands.

"We have to leave, don't we?"

Bruce tried his hardest not to look at her.

"You don't have to, I was the one who slipped up. Use your makeup to give yourself a bruise and tell everyone I beat you and left. They never investigate battered women, they'll come after me."

A soft hand on his made him look into Nora's determined blue contacts.

"I'm coming with you, Bruce."

Bruce shook his head.

"You've built a good life here."

Nora scoffed, "A life where I spill oil on myself and have handsy customers grab my ass? Bruce, I've been happier with you than I could ever be in some empty house I can't even afford to heat!"

"It won't be easy, Nora, I'll be leaving the country, and, Nora... if they catch you with me I... I don't know what they'll do."

Lacing her hand in his, she smiled sadly.

"Then I won't get caught."

He knew he should say no, it would be safer for her to stay away. He was dangerous, both in body and reputation, and if the Other Guy didn't get her, the people coming after him would. He knew the answer, but her hand in his was so warm, so _real,_ and he found himself saying yes.

"Start packing, we leave tomorrow."

Nora gave a cheer and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before going to find the suitcases.

"Here's the plan,"he told her once their things were packed, "We're driving in separate cars until we get to Tennessee, then I'll sell my truck in the first place we find, since that's the one they'll be looking for. Is your car registered under Sarah Lym?"

She shook her head.

"No, it's under Pamela Jackson."

Bruce let out a sigh of relief, "Good, we won't have to change the plates. You have a passport in that name?"

"No, just a driver's license."

"That's all right," he told her, though the crease in between his brows and tension in his voice told her otherwise, "We'll get you one. Do you own this house?"

Nora nodded again, flinching when Bruce swore and smacked his hand on the coffee table.

"Dinah will buy it!" she exclaimed, making herself smaller, "She wants to buy it so her son can live closer, she doesn't trust banks so she can get me cash tomorrow, _please don't be angry._ "

Bruce stopped his pacing to look at Nora, really look at her. She was making herself as small as she could, curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around her legs. She looked like a small child and Bruce was reminded of himself when he was young, trying to hide from his father.

He felt utter heartbreak and utter disgust at the same time. Heartbreak that this was Nora's learned behavior, and disgust at himself for causing it in the first place.

"I'm not angry," he assured her, backing away so as to give her space, "I promise I'm not, Nora, you did a really good job."

"Really?" she asked, finally looking up from her knees.

"Yeah," Bruce reassured, "You've been a real good girl."

He winced at how demeaning that sounded, but Nora seemed to like it, mouth pulling up at the corners.

"Do you want to go to bed?" He asked, trying to keep his voice gentle, "There's not anything we can do until morning."

Nora nodded, so Bruce asked, "Would you like me to sleep in the living room tonight?"

She nodded again, taking a deep breath before getting off the couch.

"I won't ever hit you," he told her as she went through the doorway, "I want you to know that, Lenore."

She paused, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sad smile.

"That's not a promise a man can keep."


	8. Chapter 8

In the morning Bruce drove down to the local realtor's office and obtained the necessary paperwork as soon as they opened.

Dinah was highly receptive to the last minute sale, and they drove away by noon with 30,000 dollars cash, with Nora in a red wig and brown contacts, and Bruce with slicked back hair and a large fake mole on his forehead.

They drove in separate cars until they reached Knoxville, where Nora got twenty dollars off a motel room by unbuttoning the top three buttons of her shirt.

Nora loaded all of Bruce's things out of his truck and into her car while Bruce washed his hair and peeled off the mole so as to look like his driver's license photo.

Bruce left with the truck at 6:30 and came back at eight with a bag of greasy fast food and a backpack with 7,000 dollars cash.

"Holy shit!" Nora exclaimed around her cheeseburger when she saw the money, "How did you get that much for that bucket of bolts?"

"Scrapped it," he told her, "With old metal vehicles the parts are often worth more than the whole. Plus it's a lot harder to track you through a car that's in a hundred pieces."

"You should write a book," Nora said after she swallowed her bite, "One hundred things you should know when you're on the run."

Bruce laughed.

"I'm not sure I would be suited to it. I only ever wrote science dissertations when I was a professor at Yale."

Nora choked on a french fry.

"You taught at Yale?!"

"Is that an issue?" he asked, pulling back like a startled horse.

Nora groaned.

"I never even finished high school! It was bad enough that you're some kind of brilliant scientist! What are you even doing with me?"

"Lenore!" he exclaimed, "I am arguably the most dangerous person on the entire planet, what are you doing with _me_?"

Nora laughed.

"Is that the trade off then? High school education for anger management?"

"A _doctorate_ degree for for anger management."

Nora threw a french fry at him.

A few hours later, after their food was eaten and an old rerun of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid was watched, Bruce cleared his throat.

"Let's talk about the plan. I have a few ideas, but I don't want this to be me dragging you around."

Tension in Nora's shoulders released and she gave a shaky smile.

"Thank you, that's very kind."

Bruce nodded and continued, "The first step is to go to Louisville, I know a guy that can get us some passports there. After that it's up to you."

"We need to leave the country."

"I'm glad you agree," he told her, "I never should have come back here in the first place."

"Why _did_ you come back?" Nora asked, head cocked to the side.

"That's a question for another time, when we can't hear people fucking in the room next to us."

The two shared a grin and then looked at the wall the moans were coming from before Bruce got serious again.

"There's two ways we can get out of the country, Mexico or Canada. I don't want to go to an airport in America, the security is too tight, and I'm on the no fly list."

Nora raised an eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you a celebrity."

Bruce gave a half smile.

"There's a real possibility that you're on it too. If the police that broke into your apartment were real, your ex-boyfriend probably told them that you were the one who stole it, and a serum like that... that's got to be just as valuble if not more than what's in me."

"That's me," Nora said, puffing her chest out, "world class criminal."

Bruce raised an eyebrow and she deflated.

"You're no fun. What are the pros and cons of the two countries?"

"Mexican border patrol is a lot worse than Canada, but airport security is easier to get through, vice versa for Canada."

"My french is passing, how about yours?"

"I speak it well enough."

"Then let's go to Canada, can your guy get us Canadian passports?"

Bruce nodded, spurring Nora to continue.

"Then we'll pretend to be natives so we can get through security more easily. Where are we flying to?"

"I was thinking Italy, because you speak the language. We can stay there while we learn the language of wherever we're going next."

Smiling, Nora said, "That sounds good, I've never been to Italy before. ...Bruce, I- I think we should get married."

Bruce looked at her as though she was insane.

"Don't look at me like that. I've thought about this all day, just hear me out. You need to be married to visit each other in the hospital, or, god forbid, jail, and being married will render us unable to testify against each other in some courts. It will help us hide, too. No one thinks about a married couple living together, but unmarried, well, you saw what happened in Alabama."

"Lenore," he said, and all of a sudden it was impossible to meet her eyes, "What do we do? It wouldn't be valid unless we used our real names, and if we did we would be arrested on the spot. I agree it would be helpful to pretend to be... married, from now on, but we have no way of making it legal."

"I'm not so sure," Nora countered, "I have a great uncle that lives in Albany, and he's the one who signs off on marriage licenses. He could log it through the paper files, so we wouldn't trip up any digital trackers if someone has put an alert on our names."

Bruce clenched his jaw, a crease appearing in the middle of his forehead.

There was a long, tense silence before Bruce said, "I'll tell you in the morning."

They slept back to back that night.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 **Authors note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I'm not really sure that you could approve a marriage or sell a house like that, but lets give it the benefit of the doubt so I can spend time writing instead of researching.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Do you trust him?" Bruce asked as soon as Nora opened her eyes.

"Wha-?" she answered, the last half of the word being cut off with a yawn.

"Your Great Uncle, do you trust him implicitly?"

"Yes," she told him, wide awake now, "I used to spend every summer with my Grandmother in Albany, when she died he was the one I spent my summers with."

Bruce nodded.

"I think we should do it then. It makes sense, would be enormously helpful if we were caught, and it's not as though it would change our relationship."

Nora seemed to deflate the smallest amount when he spoke his words, but her smile was genuine.

"I'm glad that you agree, it would have been hard to marry you if I was the only one who showed up to the alter."

Bruce gave a pained smile back, but it was short lived.

"Put your stuff in the car, I'll drive first."

Nora did as she was told, soon falling asleep with her head leaning against the car's passenger's window, her red wig making her look like Pippy Longstocking.

Logically, he knew that marriage was the smartest choice, the benefits far outweighed the cost, but he just couldn't get over the fact that it was _marriage._

He had always imagined marrying Betty if he ever married at all, and though Betty had moved on, it still felt like he would be closing the door on that part of his life.

In contrast with the half of him that was resisting, the other half, the stronger half, wanted nothing more.

To have Lenore be his, only his, bound not only by convenience but by the law.

He wanted to have her in every way one can have another human being. It would be so easy to trigger the chemicals inside her, to grab her by her hips, sink his teeth into her pretty neck, bruise her skin to paint it blue, grip her wrists so hard they break.

The feelings repulsed him, caused his innards to twist as though he would vomit.

What kind of monster would wish hurt the one in his care? Was it the radiation in his veins that brought this beast to the forefront? Or, even worse, the blood of his father?

The thought was repulsive to him, but even more repulsive was the thought of other hands on Nora, which would surely happen if he did not marry her, either from her seeking solace in another man, or from her turning to prostitution again.

Though he felt he could not bear to hurt her, he could bear even less to leave her, and so they would be married.

She slept until about half an hour outside of Tennessee, and then was quiet all the way into West Virginia, the marriage still weighing heavily on their minds.

They were both silent as they pulled into a motel and got a room, and it wasn't until the door was locked that they began to talk.

"The man that we'll meet later is named Hector Gonzales," Bruce said, barely looking at her, "I met him in Guatemala. He thinks my name is Mark Howard, and that I'm on the run because I sold a federal amount of marijuana. He's a nice man, but don't take off your wig or contacts, I don't want to take chances."

Nora nodded.

"How long do you think it will take?"

"It took a week last time, but that was years ago in Guatemala. I'd guess four or five days here. Go ahead and get eight thousand dollars to put in your purse."

"I've got some hair dye in the trunk," she told him as she got the cash out of the duffle bag, "It's gray. I was thinking we could add ten years to your age."

"Just what I needed," Bruce replied with a humorless chuckle, "To look an _extra_ ten years older than my wife."

"To look like someone other than yourself," she snapped, eyes flaring green underneath her contacts, "I know you're opposed to the marriage but there's no need to be petty. In case you haven't noticed we're about to go to a man who will provide us with an illegal service so we can flee the country. This is not the time to play house, this is the time to survive."

He drew back as though he had been slapped.

Nora's teeth were bared as she stalked toward him, and Bruce shrank back, his back hitting the wall, almost _reeling_ as he felt the chemicals in the body imbalance. He could almost feel his blood screaming that _he_ was supposed to dominate _her_ , but he couldn't do anything about it.

They were only an inch apart, Nora not pressing him against the wall by force but by her eyes alone.

After a tense moment where the air seemed to sizzle and pop between them, Nora finally retreated.

As soon as she stood down he grabbed her and flipped her so that she was pressed between the wall and him, every inch of their bodies flushed together.

One hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and one was gripping her hip so hard it would probably bruise.

Giving a little whimper, Nora tried to move even closer, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

As they held each other Bruce felt his stomach turn right side up, the chemicals in his body sighing in relief at the return to their natural order.

"I'm sorry," he said into her fake red hair, "You're right, I shouldn't be crass. It's not as though I have a lot to be vain about anyway."

Nora gave a little giggle and after a few more minutes pulled away.

The tension between them was not gone by a long shot, but it was diminished, and for now that was enough.

Nora helped Bruce dye his hair in the sink, her fingernails running over his scalp something akin to heaven, and after it was done Nora changed into a short black wig and gray contacts. She did her makeup in harsher lines than she had in Alabama, and Bruce changed into slacks and a button down, making them look entirely different than the casual, jeans and t-shirts personas that they had previously.

They loaded up into the car, jittery with nerves, and fifteen minutes later they pulled into a driveway of a house in a run down neighborhood just south of Louisville.

The cut of the engine made Nora's stomach jump.

"Just let me do the talking," Bruce told her reassuringly, and after they got out of the car he had his arm around her waist until they reached the door.

They rung the doorbell, and Bruce soothed his thumb across Lenore's back when her pulse jumped.

The door opened just slightly, the door chain stretched as far as it could go, a small, elderly Hispanic woman glaring suspiciously at them.

"Que son ustedes?"

"Me llamo Mark Howard, sabía Hector en Guatemala. Ella es mi esposa."

Nora gave a little wave when the woman looked at her.

She nodded back at Nora but glared at Bruce.

"Son un distribuidor de drogas?"

"Si," Bruce answered in an undertone.

"Ustedes no introducir drogas en mi casa," she said sternly, and after Bruce agreed she undid the chain and let them both into the house.

"Hector!" she called, "Hay gringos aqui para tu."

There was no response and the woman rolled her eyes before leaving the room.

"Remember," Bruce murmured to Nora, "Let me do the talking."

"Gracias, Mama," they heard a man's voice from the hallway say before he appeared in the room.

Hector Gonzales was a short man of about twenty five, with a neatly trimmed mustache and a stunning smile.

"Mark!" he exclaimed, "Mi amigo! Es bueno verte de nuevo."

He shook Bruce's hand warmly before turning toward Nora.

"Quién eres, bella dama? Seguramente un ángel del cielo," he said before kissing the back of her hand.

"My wife," Bruce said with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah," Hector said, dropping her hand, "Congratulations you dirty dog!"

"Don't call me a dirty dog when you're standing in the room," Bruce said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"He means that I am a lover of women," Hector said to Nora with a wink.

Nora giggled.

"What are you here for, my friend?"

"Passports and driver's licensees, Canadian for both," Bruce answered.

"Canadian is an extra thousand dollars for each," Hector said with a frown, "They're much harder to get my hands on."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but immediately cut off by Nora's gasp.

"Let me see," he demanded, gently prying her hand from her face.

A little trickle of blood was running out of her nose, over her mouth, standing out starkly against her pale skin.

"Do you have a restroom I can use?" she asked weakly

"End of the hall," Hector said, worry plain on his face.

"It's alright, Mark, darling, it's not like it hasn't happened before," she soothed, waving Bruce away when he tried to follow.

Before turning down the hallway she threw Bruce a little wink, unseen by Hector.

"Qué le pasa a tu esposa?" Hector asked, wringing his hands together.

Bruce ran a hand along his face, looking as old and weary as he felt.

"Ella está muriendo," he told the other man, allowing his voice to break, "Es por eso que estamos dejando el país. Los médicos son más baratos en Canadá."

"Si, Si," Hector said with a nod, looking lost in thought.

Nora entered the room again, crossing to lean on Bruce, his arm wrapped around her.

"I'll tell you what," Hector said to Nora with a smile and pity in his eyes, "Your husband has been such a good friend to me that I have decided I will not change you extra for the Canadian documents."

"Oh, thank you!" Nora exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes.

"More money for... sightseeing, si? Now come, let me take your pictures."

The couple followed Hector into the garage, and after he took their pictures they all went to the kitchen to sit down at the table.

Bruce and Nora wrote down the information that they wanted to put on their documents and chose their names, Francois and Isabella Gagnon, and after each shaking Hector's hand and promising to come back five days later they got pizza and went back to their hotel room.

"How did you make yourself bleed?" Bruce asked, the tone too concerned to be mere curiosity.

"I flickered for a moment while you both were looking the other way," she answered with a shrug.

"Nora," he scolded, "You can't do that! What if he had seen you?"

"Then he would have thought he was going crazy, it was only for a second."

"A second too long," he countered, "Four thousand dollars is not worth getting exposed."

"We need every penny we can get," she argued, "Four thousand dollars is worth a lot more than a drop of blood."

"Do you always bleed when you change?" Bruce asked, his harsh tone getting softer with the question.

"I didn't use too," she answered in the same tone, "But lately... I've been getting weaker. It used to feel _good_ to be invisible, but now, now it just hurts."

"When we get to Italy I'll buy some equipment to run some tests. It won't be as good as a lab, but... I've been burned by asking for outside help before."

"What happened?" she asked, piece of pizza paused half way toward her mouth.

Bruce let out a sigh. "Have you ever heard of the abomination?"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Translations:

Que son ustedes?- Who are you?

Me llamo Mark Howard, sabía Hector en Guatemala. Ella es mi esposa. - My name is Mark Howard, I knew Hector in Guatemala. She is my wife.

Son un distribuidor de drogas? - You're a drug dealer?

Si- Yes

Ustedes no introducir drogas en mi casa – You will not bring any drugs into my house

Hay gringos aqui para tu. - There are white people here for you

Gracias, Mama – Thanks, Mom

Mi amigo! Es bueno verte de nuevo. - My friend! It's good to see you again.

Quién eres, bella dama? Seguramente un ángel del cielo – Who is this beautiful lady? Surely an angel from heaven.

Qué le pasa a tu esposa? - What's wrong with your wife?

Ella está muriendo – She's dying.

Es por eso que estamos dejando el país. Los médicos son más baratos en Canadá. - It's why we're leaving the country. The doctors are cheaper in Canada.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

 **Author's note: The spanish was probably all pretty terrible, because I just used google translate, so if something doesn't make sense feel free to write a comment. Special thanks to ForEver-A-DayDreamer and GawkyTC for reviewing! And thanks to all my followers, favoriters, and readers! Finals week has been kind of kicking my ass but hopefully I'll be able to write more when school's done at the end of the week.**


	10. Chapter 10

"Wow," she said when he finished his story, "Your life is like a comic book."

Bruce gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

"If it was I would be saving people, not killing them."

"It sounds like you saved a lot of people from the abomination."

"After creating him and destroying half of Manhattan."

"You didn't create him," Nora told him.

"I supplied the means," he argued, "None of that would have happened if I hadn't given my blood. Hell, none of this would have happened if I hadn't turned myself into a science experiment in the first place."

"How long are you going to blame yourself for this, Bruce?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm.

"Until I die," he answered, words hard as steel.

They sat silently for a moment before Nora took her hand off his arm.

"This Betty you mentioned," she said quietly, "You were in love with her, weren't you?"

"Yes," he answered, just as softly.

"Are you still?" she pressed, pain clear in her voice.

"I don't know," he answered, "She's married and I've… changed a lot in the past few years. It's hard to tell if I love her or I just love her memories. I haven't even seen her since I left New York."

"Did you come back to America to find her?"

Bruce shook his head.

"No, something… happened, and I just wanted to come home. My mother was born in Alabama, I just wanted to be… close to her."

"Bruce," Nora said hesitantly, "If you don't want to get married because of Betty-"

"No," he said, cutting her off, "Me and Betty were over long ago, I'll never reopen that door. I know we're not together, Nora, but my life is yours now."

He had said the statement offhandedly, and was alarmed when Nora started to cry.

"Lenore!" he exclaimed, taking her into his arms, "What's wrong?"

"You've been so good to me, Bruce," she sobbed, "I'm so selfish, you shouldn't have to marry me."

"You're not selfish," he soothed, still bewildered, "Everything you said about the marriage made sense."

"I just said those things so you wouldn't leave!" she confessed, still crying, "I don't want to be by myself anymore, I don't want to be a prostitute again! You don't know what it's like, Bruce, you don't know what it's like."

Burying her face in his shoulder, she completely broke down, sobs wracking her body so hard she convulsed, tears and snot mixing on his shirt.

"Oh, Lenore," he breathed, holding her tighter, "I'm not gonna leave you, honey, I'm not gonna leave you."

Instead of calming down she cried even harder, causing Bruce to gently rock her back and forth, tears streaming down his own face.

He could hardly imagine the hell that she had been through before she came to Alabama. Her boyfriend had abused her for a year, and then she had spent another year with no one to turn to, nothing to do except sell herself. Bruce had already been an adult when he started life on the run, already had resources, she had only been a kid.

"I'm here," he told her, "I'm here."

He held her the entire time she cried, not letting go until she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Bruce," she said, face red and blotchy, "I'm sorry about everything."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he told her, "The marriage is a good idea, and I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't want to be married though."

"I'm terrified of what I'll do to you," he confessed, looking at his hands.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"What if I hurt you? What if I can't control myself and you wind up dead? I've killed so many people, I put Betty in the hospital, what am I going to do to you? And-" he broke off, taking a haggard breath, "I almost _raped_ you."

"Bruce," she protested, "I _wanted_ that, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't do anything wrong?" he repeated, slightly hysterical, "I _attacked_ you, held you down, bruised you, bit you so hard you _bled._ "

"And I _enjoyed_ it," she countered, "and it wasn't your fault, we've got chemicals inside of us."

"I should have been able to control myself," he argued.

"You know what I did after you left?" she asked, irritated, "I _masturbated._ I _touched myself_ thinking about what you did to me and I _got off on it._ "

Bruce let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a groan, but he still didn't look convinced.

"I've been raped," she confessed, "And what you did wasn't that."

Instantly a surge of rage welled up within him, the other guy's anger mixing with his and pounding against his skull. The now familiar feeling of possession threatened to overwhelm him. She was _his_ , how _dare_ someone touch her that way. She should be safe, she should be _protected_ , he would _kill_ whoever-

"Bruce," Nora panicked, "Bruce look at me, I'm right here, it happened a long time ago."

Her words seemed to reach him as though he was underwater, but he heard them just the same.

"Feel me," she said, putting his hands on her waist, "I'm here, I'm fine. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"

The last sentence cut sharply through his haze, reaching the Hulk. No, he didn't want to hurt her, couldn't hurt her, she had to be _safe_.

Coming out of his trance, he breathed deeply and tightened his hands on Nora's waist.

"Lenore," he breathed.

"I'm right here," she reassured.

His eyes refocused and he saw Nora, sitting beside him, hands over his.

Instinctively he bared his neck, and Nora climbed into his lap, resting her forehead in the crook of his shoulder.

"I'm too dangerous," he said, lips brushing against her hair.

"No, it's my fault, I shouldn't have told you-"

"No," he interrupted, "you shouldn't have to censor what you say because of my inability to control myself."

"Then I'll tell you everything. Tonight. No more surprises. Tell me when it gets to be too much, and we'll take a break, okay?"

"I might not be able to handle it."

"Then we'll stop, but it will be better for you to know, so that you're not surprised again. I've had a… very violent life."

"That makes two of us," he said with a humorless smile.

She soothed her thumb across the back of his neck before standing.

"Come on, lay down with me, it will be easier to talk if I'm not looking at you."

Bruce got up and walked over to the bed with her, lying on his back and fitting her into the curve of his arm, her head on his chest.

She took a deep breath, staring at the wall while Bruce looked at the ceiling, and then she started to speak.

She told him about how her brother used to hit her when he was angry, how he had broken her rib when she was sixteen because he shoved her too hard and she fell down the stairs.

She told him about how Vincent wouldn't take no for an answer, how he would slap her when she would talk back, how he would hold her down and rape her when she didn't want to have sex, how he nearly beat her to death when she tried to run away.

She talked about how sometimes her Johns would rape her, how she knew that she couldn't report it because she was on the run, how one man hit her in the head so hard she got a concussion, how another had held her down and burned her with cigarettes.

Bruce had to stop her a few times, and Nora had to stop even more, crying through the whole confession, but once it was finally over she felt as though the weight of an entire world had been lifted off her chest.

"So you see, Bruce," she finished, finally looking up at him, "I can't do that again, I just can't, and you could never hurt me like I've already been hurt."

He was crying too, face wet with tears, and he gathered her up in his arms and held her close, kissing her hair.

"I'm not going to leave you, Nora," he told her, "You'll never have to do that again, I'll take care of you."

At his words she broke down into sobs again, clinging to him like a lifeline.

After all their tears were spent, Bruce gave a sigh.

"My father used to beat me," he said softly, not knowing he was going to say the words until they came out of his mouth.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, looking up at him in concern.

"No," he replied, "but I think I should."

He laid his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling again.

"I was… four, I think, when he started to hit me. I never knew when it was going to happen, one second everything was fine and the next second…. My mom would stop him, put herself in front of me. She was... I loved her so much.

"One day she finally had enough, told me we were going to stay with her family in Alabama, said I was finally going to meet my Grandma, said I had her eyes. We packed the bags, and I was so excited to go, and then he came home, came home from work early, and he-"

Bruce broke off, his voice watery, and swallowed.

"He killed her," he said, voice breaking, "Right in front of me. She was the only good thing in my life and he just… killed her."

Nora reached up to gently wipe a tear off of his face, causing him to start.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, ""I wasn't trying to make this about myself, I shouldn't have-"

"No, Bruce," Nora interrupted, "This isn't some kind of competition. It wouldn't be fair of me to ask you to listen and to not give you the same privilege. We've got to stick together, us survivors."

"Survivors," Bruce repeated, a ghost of a smile going across his face, "I like that."

They lay there for a while, quietly, each reflecting on the circumstances that lead them to this moment, and then Bruce broke the silence.

"Let's go tomorrow, up to New York. Hector said we won't get our stuff until Wednesday."

"Are you sure?" she asked, "Sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah," he responded, gut still churning, but knowing in his heart that it was the right decision, "So long as you don't mind being Mrs Banner."

"Mrs Banner?" she asked with a smile, "Why not Mr Avellino?"

"Bruce Avellino," he repeated, "It's not the worst thing I've heard."

"Nah," she told him, "I think Nora Banner has a better ring to it."

"You don't have to change your name," he said, "I'll understand."

"I would like to," she said, and then uncertainly asked, "Would you like me to?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile, giving her a squeeze, "I would like that a lot."

He was too possessive of her, a voice in the back of his mind said, he already was more attached than he should be, and he shouldn't have ever become friends with her in the first place. She deserved so much better than him, he could never give her all the things she needed, but she _smiled_ when she saw him. She _wanted_ to be with him, and god help him he wanted to be with her.

Dr and Mrs Banner. The sound of it made his heart jump.

"Do you want me to call my uncle?" Nora questioned.

"No," he said with a shake of his head, "I don't like to call. Phone lines can be tapped, the advanced notice can give them enough time to go to police, they might let something slip to a friend or a neighbor, there are too many variables."

"You want to just show up?" she asked, confused.

"It's the best bet," he replied, "You know your uncle best, how do you want to play this?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday, right?"

"Yeah."

"The drive will be what, eight hours?"

"Ten. More like eleven with stops."

"So we'll get there Sunday night. He goes to a bible study on Sunday night, but he should be home by the time we get there. He lives alone, no wife, no kids, no roommate, but sometimes he has friends over, we have to make sure no one's there.

"You knock on his door, tell him your car broke down, ask to use the phone. He still has a landline, it's in the living room, you can see if anyone's with him. Then use the phone to call me, we'll pick up a burner cell on the way. If there's no one there pretend like you're calling your girlfriend, if there's someone there pretend like you're calling a tow truck.

"If someone's there you leave, if no one's there I'll come in and we'll take it from there."

Bruce smiled incredulously.

"Maybe I should have you co-author 'On the run for dummies.'"

She laughed.

"Really? I thought I sounded really hokey."

"No, it's a good plan, I like it, it's smart. It covers all our angles."

She beamed at the praise, and even though her face was still blotchy and stained with tears Bruce thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Alright," he said, reaching over to set the alarm on the bedside table, "I want to leave at seven, let's get some sleep."

"Okay," she agreed, turning off the the lamp, "Thanks for sticking by me."

"Nora," he told her sincerely, "I'm not gonna leave you until you ask me to go."

################

 **Author's note: So sorry none of my stories have been updated in so long! My computer broke, and because it's not a common model I went through hell trying to get the part. I've been using my mom's computer for the past couple of months, but I think you'll understand I didn't want to write fanfic on it. Now I'm back, yay! Kind of a filler chapter but better than nothing**


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